


Chaperones

by ChroniclyFlaming



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Comic), Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Gen, bastila is not good at failing, bastila tries to be an adult, mission thinks everyone is a dork, mission's shade throwing is very accurate, or at video games, she is right, speedrunning is hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 21:12:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9345293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChroniclyFlaming/pseuds/ChroniclyFlaming
Summary: While waiting for the others on Korriban, Bastila and Mission try to keep each other out of trouble while working together to save the Republic--as soon as Bastila can figure out how to use the controller.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, look, a nice little short story on the powers of friendship before launching into another long Revan/Bastila one where the two main characters are inevitably traumatized as/why they fall in love!
> 
> But everyone needs a little break, including Jedi Padawans and Taris street urchins.

It was kind of insulting how they expected Mission to not know any better or not know how to follow important orders. Maybe she wasn’t a soldier, but at least she wasn’t pacing around and muttering about the dark side like a loon, and she wasn’t threatening to murder everyone like HK. It was also rude how that loon was deciding it was okay now to hang around the _Ebon Hawk_ for no reason and it didn’t matter that her secret boyfriend was fighting a bunch of Sith, and she could just causally lean against this wall, and wanted to make sure Mission was alright. Pretty soon she would be harassing Mission to finish her dumb, dumb homework. Did _no one_ ever listen to Mission? She _said_ she wasn’t going outside the ship, no matter how cool those Sith tunnels and caves were and how probably they would need her to take out some mines and slip through traps. It made her feel uncomfortable, with Bastila trying to start a conversation. They had tried that before, and it ended with arguments and having to write reports for Bastila to read and critique.

She wasn’t some little kid.

Bastila was watching the holo, inspecting the controller. “What are you doing now?” But she sounded curious, not accusing.

Mission would distract her--Mission would t _ake pity on her_ and help take her mind off whatever was going on in Korriban. “I’m playing a game. It’s called ‘Republic of Jedi.’”

The Jedi was watching it more seriously now. “Oh, I see the lightsaber now.”

“Do you want to try it?”

Bastila gave her a _look._

Mission looked right back. “What, you got something better to do?”

“Well. Fine. We can play a game. Can I try?” Bastila Shan could not even stand to watch Kal play pazaak. She was trying to be nice, or whatever, and distract Mission, but two could play at that game. Literally. Go ahead, Shan, try your best. The human would inevitably be perfect about this, in her uptight, smug way.

She was some high-and-mighty Jedi. There were interviews from her on the Holonet, her going on about how awesome the Republic was and important the military was and posters of her looking all badass to trick lonely losers with nothing better going on to sign up (worked for Kal). Then there was this all crazy stuff about how she’d beaten Revan to death with her bare hands and there was that _other_ stuff that about how she’d beaten the scary Sith that made her and Kal cover their eyes when seeing (‘We will never discuss this again.’ ‘Just one message to Bastila?’ ‘No. Well. Just one.’). She did weird Jedi magic to help in fights and could heal you after you took a blaster shot to the shoulder trying to keep your best buddy safe from his awful big brother or fell down the stairs going too fast and ended up scraping up your knees and trying not to cry (Kal was such a big crybaby). She could use a lightsaber with two blades and levitate stuff with her mind and spoke a bunch of different languages and would drink scolding hot tea.

But she was not good at video games.

Even this one, where you played as a _Jedi_ with a glowing lightsaber and Force powers fighting Sith in black robes and crummy lines. It was for the combat that Mission had even bought this stupid thing. And that it was on sale. And that Kal was actually paying for it because it was his account hooked to the Holonet. And Mission had even set it on the easy level.

Mission stared the at holo. “I’ve never seen anyone lose that _quickly_.”

Bastila was acting all _offended_. “That’s absurd. This game doesn’t compare to real combat.”

“Yeah. You didn’t even get captured by a bunch of swoop racers.”

After enough time with Bastila, you yourself could recite the Jedi Code aloud. You could change it up, make it better even.

“No, Mission, Force, how did you make a _limerick_ of that?”

“Mine is better.”

Bastila grimaced and gave up. Just like she did in that game.

Mission gave her a glare as secret and brilliant thoughts and plans came to her mind. She nearly pouted. “I thought you wanted to play.”

Bastila drew herself out of her thoughts. “Fine. I suppose this simple distraction beats worrying about the others.”

Yeah, she did way too much of that anyway. And especially now, when she couldn’t leave and help her dumb _clandestine_ boyfriend—who had secretly dressed in black robes for the occasion and made Mission promise to not tell Bastila because finding the Star Map on Korriban might require him going _under cover_! and it was important that Bastila not know or she might rush in and get kidnapped, again, or you know, give him a long lecture on the dangers of lying and the dark side, and both would suck really bad.

Bastila really might try to run and charge these Sith. She _had_ to be distracted, for her own safety, and Mission would volunteer to do that.

They watched the long lines of dialogue scroll across the screen, and Bastila made sure to point out the historical inaccuracies and insist that Jedi were never princesses and furthermore, did not need rescuing. Bastila leaned in close and tried to figure out the right choice by reading and then re-reading every line. With an index finger and not thumb, the Jedi pressed down on the controller held at the wrong angle and waited to see what would happen. She wanted to see the long movie that played and would not skip it because she wanted to know what would happen and wanted to hear all about the backstory. She was so new and terrible at this. When something popped up on the screen to show her character’s progress, Bastila acted like she had broken the game. “What did I do?”

Mission glanced down at her boots and wondered how long the guys could spent walking around cool tombs full of evil ghosts. It was like playing with Zalbaar again who, was the best Wookie and best guy in the galaxy, but really insisted on _talking_ through these games. “You got a dark side point.”

“What? How?”

“Well, how do I remove it?”

“You can’t.”

That seemed kinda deep. Bastila appreciated it. “Now, can I replay what just happened? Is there a button for that? Can I get ‘light side’ points to turn the scales back?”

“Sure. We can _start all over again._ But maybe you want to go dark side?”

“ _Excuse_ me?”

“It’s easy. See, just go with the red answer.” Mission tried to press the joystick downward.

“No.” Bastila slapped her hands away. “I’m playing. You said it was my my turn and I’m playing _light side,_ thank you very much.”

“Fine. Go ahead. I bet you can’t beat this game.”

“Of course I’ll _beat_ it. You forget.” She sounded so smug. “I have faced Dark Lords and Sith; how hard can a game be? This isn’t like saving the _real_ Republic.”

Mission might be a ‘kid’ but she knew a good mark when she saw it. “Tell ya what, if you beat it, I’ll finish that report you wanted me to write.”

“Deal.”

They shook on it.

Bastila turned her nose back to the screen and somehow knocked her character off a ledge. When they got to the any real combat, she was slow and managed to miss her target every time. After every fight, when the points were tailed up and compared to other scores, Bastila took personal offense to the fact that she wasn’t number one on there.

“Why won’t it turn around?”

“You have to use the stick!”

“It’s not working.” She fumbled around with the remote. “I do believe I pressed block. Why did I jump? Is this the block button?”

Mission waited for her to figure it out, and related when the holo character tumbled off another ledge and they had to restart the level.

“It’s this blade,” the Jedi complained. Next she would be complaining about how unfair the controller was and for real, she could get a high score if no one was watching. “I’m not used to fighting with a single blade.”

Mission rolled her eyes. “I thought it was so dumb. So simple and _easy_.”

“Can you change your weapon?”

“Yeah, ‘course you can. Its on the inventory screen.”

Bastila held the controller close to her hands, as though the _x_ and _o_ buttons explained anything. “...how do you do that again?”

“Did you already forget the tutorial?” And after making Mission sit through that thing? “Already?”

An hour passed. An entire hour passed. They got half-way through the level and seemed to be doing okay, alright, a little low on health, but okay. Then she forgot how to use stealth mode. Then she ran out of health packs. She died again. Bastila had died thirty-two times. At this rate, the Republic was screwed.

It wasn’t so funny now.

You know _what_ , it stopped being funny around twenty-three times. A lot of things become unfunny after that.

Mission got up to walk around in little circles when her legs cramped, and to get Bastila drinks and was forced to hold the clammy controller when the Jedi went to the ‘fresher with strict orders to not ruin the game for her. “Fine! Like I can ruin your perfect score of _failure_!”

When she of course pressed u _n-pause_ and checked Bastila’s stats, the twilek wanted to throw the controller at her. “Why did you put your skill points into intelligence? That’s not your class. You’re a sentinel!”

Bastila’s mouth made a stupid _o_ of surprise as she came out. “It seemed correct.”

“At least _min-max_ here. Aw, you did this all wrong. And why does your armor suck so bad? You can’t be the vanguard and have _light_ armor.”

It was so unfair that the others got to fight ghosts and Sith and she was stuck with this dork. Ah, but that wasn’t fair. Bastila was _trying_. And it wasn’t like Kal wasn’t a total dork too. Hell, at least Bastila was a famous Jedi and you could even sell her autograph for a lot of money even if she wouldn’t give it to you. What did Kal get you? Armor you didn’t want. That’s what. She hoped they got trapped in some cave and then guessed she wished they didn’t.

But she had nothing better to do than hang around here.

Worse, neither did Bastila. “I’m not going to give up on this, Mission. Wrong armor or not.” She made a vow and everything. Swore on her oath and on her lightsaber.

“Does that mean when you quit I get your lightsaber?” It was a _cool_ weapon _,_ the exact color of the blades was unique, plus it had _two_ of those blades. And it was worth a _lot_ of money on the Holonet. The _Ebon Hawk_ was on Korriban anyway and these were the people wanting to buy. Mostly. Except for the creepy people that liked to post in forums about Bastila Shan and asked weird questions and make awful, awful comments and theories she only knew about because she accidentally went through Kal’s log history. And there some things that even a tough fourteen-year-old like Mission didn’t need to see or know about, and she had spent hours at a time in Taris’ sewers—there were things that _no one_ needed to see or know about. But Mission didn’t want to think about that.

“No.” She replied shortly, tucking the lightsaber back away. “And I won’t quit.”

“Why? It’s just a game.”

“It’s not. It’s another lesson on hand-and-eye control and _patience_. There are battle tactics involves. It shows how some people see the Republic: as a thing that must be saved. It shows they trust the Jedi to do that. Even if this all involves involves unnecessarily detailed levels of planets and unrealistic travel speeds and combat abilities.” Bastila was getting into it.

“Guh, why don’t you just do the dark side path? It’s less combat.”

“That’s the easy path.” She made it sound like anyone that did it that was doing it wrong. Like anything easy was useless. She was...so nothing like Mission’s older brother Griff.

“Well you’re not doing so good on the hard one are you?”

Bastila did that thing with her _face_ and her _eyebrows_. “How do _you_ normally play? You have beaten this, yes?”

“Oh, you want me to teach you how to really, _really_ play? I don’t think you’re ready for that Shan.” Mission had her own looks to give, and maybe had never actually gone fishing for real, but she could understand that metaphor of something wiggling, tugging on the line.

“If there’s some _special_ button or way of playing that you are not showing me, then please do so. Otherwise, you are just wasting time for the both of us.”

“You asked for it. But you better not question my methods here, Miss Jedi.”

Bastila actually smiled and _bowed_ over her controller. “I’ll trust the expert, Master Vao.”

Oh, now they were getting somewhere. When it came time to level up and pick the stats, Mission did the best she could to salvage the mess. Eventually, when hunger set in, at Mission’s command they scavenged like they were back on Taris. They didn’t bother with that ‘healthy’ grain-and-vegetable crap from the synthesizer. They ate quick packs of garbage and Bastila did not lecture about proper protein and fiber. They went through some of Mission’s stash of candy, needing the sugar. They drank caf after caf and found some Javarican espresso that made them both wince and choke and chug another cup.

The brunette woman was laying out the plans. “We beat the first level. We’re halfway through the second. There must only be so much left.”

“There’s twelve levels!”

Bastila rubbed her forehead. “ _Force_.”

“I guess I’ll make another pot of caf?”

“Alright. Thank you. But no more drinking any of it. It’ll stunt your growth.”

The third one wasn’t so hard. It was a forest level but not so long. Bastila was getting better. She _was_. She refused to go dark side, willingly, and Mission decided not to press the point. They found the code for the double-bladed lightsaber and when she made a crack about hoping Bastila didn’t lose this one, the human smiled and shrugged. “I guess we’ll just have to charge the second one on Kal’s account again.”

At a certain time, you had to root for the kid. She was getting much better and _so close_.

When others, like Jolee and Canderous asked what was up, both she and Bastila hushed them up and told them to get the hell out. They didn’t even care that Canderous scoffed at them and them left like a big baby, or that Jolee complained about those _young people_ and their _attitude_ and _holo games._ Big Z asked them to please keep it down, and then garbled that it was nice to see the two of them getting along so well while Basitla and Mission made faces. HK offered really good target advice that both she and Bastila followed and it helped a lot.

Fourth level? Pshaw, they had that sucker done with. Sand traps couldn’t stop them and Bastila really, really killed that krayt dragon into digital dust. They got better armor and leveled up _better_ this time. She found loud music to dance to and eventually she got Bastila to sing along to stay awake. Mission only wished she could record this for you know, _posterity_. Also to embarrass her later. That’s how they got through the fifth level with its badly animated version of underwater travel with very unrealistic oxygen time. “A Jedi can hold their breathe for long than that!”

“What part made you think this was _realistic_? When we traded a giant gold coin for a key to get into a magic trunk that was supposed to be where they were stashing a princess? How do you think she survived in that thing?”

Bastila was too honest. “I assumed she was deceased and we would be forced to find another way to stop the Sith Lord without her.”

“Wow. _Dark_.”

“I meant that she was more a metaphor than a real person.”

“Tell that to all the dead soldiers and gizka we killed to level up and save her.”

Fifth, they were nearly halfway there, and Bastila would pull her neck sharply side to side with a loud creak. The underground parts made Mission homesick. The lava was the worst part of _anything_ because Bastila could not time her jumps.

Sixth level, halfway through, and Bastila need a break. Her eyes were all bloodshot and she was muttering about the Jedi code, about marathon training sessions with other apprentices, hours spent on some report, tireless sessions in the training yard until she could barely walk the next day. She was going crazy. Talking ‘bout standing in the sun holding a bucket of water cause her Master ordered her to, and about the Vulkars forcing her into that revolting outfit. She slapped her face and talked about this was nothing, really. She had faced Sith Lords and shared dreams with Kal (Mission winced with sympathy) and had been fighting for years. She had the Force.

“Reeeaally? Now you got it. Didn’t have it when we were fighting that giant tak. In fact I remember you running out of it pretty fast.”

“I told you, I didn’t realize the green bar was for Force powers!”

Together, they came up with a theme song for the tinny music that came from the speakers. Bastila was reluctant, but had plenty of good input on the lyrics and could carry a tune. Mission got the high notes and the Jedi the low one. Unfairly, Bastila actually sounded pretty good. T3 even rolled in to offer his own advice, on both the game and their singing ability.

“ _Beeeep_.”

“Of course we checked behind that door. It’s locked.”

“ _Weeee_ _ooooo_ _.”_

“Why thank you. No, I’m not professionally trained.” T3 was such a kiss-ass. It was like having Kal back here all teasing her and pulling at her pig-tails. And they called Mission a kid? Pathetic, the lot of them. She ordered T3 to make her a caf, and was thwarted when Bastila shook her head and mouthed that Mission didn’t need any more caffeine. Jerks.

“At least singing might be something I can do.” The Jedi heaved a sigh, slumping down in her seat for the first time ever. Mission had never seen her with such bad posture, not ever. The twilek wanted Bastila to walk through the door and tell herself to stand up straight. “I’m afraid I can’t do this.”

“What? You giving up on me, Shan? You can’t!”

“My talents fail me in these matter. Of course my skills with a real lightsaber don't translate to this format. I can’t just use the Force here.”

To trip someone up when they asked questions? But no, Mission would be _nice_. “C’mon, what are you talking about?”

“You might be right, Mission. Not just about my ability to complete this.” Oh no, Bastila wanted to have a real heart-to-heart about this. Where was Kal when you needed him? “This is just another sign of how unprepared I am at this. Having such attachment, this emotion, and spending time doing this is—it’s not something a Jedi should be doing.”

“You have to beat this game. I know you can. You have to do it for the Jedi Order.”

Bastila looked up, doubtful, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face. “That seems rather hyperbolic.”

“For the Republic. For sisterhood.” For Mission to get out of Bastila spellchecking those stupid essays. “For womanhood in general.”

“What?”

“You’re supposed to be a role-model.” For _Juhani_ , who sometimes really did think the sun shined out of Kal’s butt and sometimes Bastila too. “ _You have to beat this game_. I thought you beat Revan.”

The taller human woman was looking at her knees. “…about that. Actually...”

“You killed that evil bastard then and you’ll do it now. C’mon. I thought we were saving the princess, not _being_ a little prissy one. You’re trying to save the Republic for real, so how come you can’t do it in a game?”

“It’s entirely different.”

“No, it’s not! You just need more confidence. You got that Battle Meditation. And. That hair. You’re smart and survived your ship blowing up and being caught by the Black Vulkars. You escaped Taris. You killed Revan—or _whatever,_ and haven’t strangled Canderous for being mean or Kal for—you know, for being him.”

Bastila was so pretty and so smart and good and so dumb. She blinked those funny blue eyes. Then she straightened up in her seat, and Mission felt glad. “You’re right. Not about those things, exactly. But in knowing that I can do this.”

Maybe she could.

“This is just a matter of pressing the right buttons in the right sequence. Kal does this all the time.”

“Yeah he does.”

The joke flew over Bastila’s head and that was for the best. Let her play her little game, all innocent. Maybe if she finally gave up and went to sleep, Mission could you know, go outside. For some fresh air was all. She wouldn’t even go into that creepy Sith star port and find a bar that had to have some pazaak and maybe have the chance to win some real suckers with real money cause Bastila was as broke as the rest of them.

Eventually it was in the weird time between night and dawn, and Mission began to fall asleep—only to awake to Bastila poking her. “I am almost at the end of this level.”

Her eyes snapped open and she tried to not have a heart attack. What the hell was Bastila even talking-- “Good for you!” she yelled, too loud. And she could nearly hear the big Z growling at her to be nicer. Bastila was maybe just trying to be her friend. It wasn’t her fault she was awful.

“I think we must be nearly done. In fact, I’m almost certain of it. The princess has to be in this Jedi Castle. They wouldn’t have her be in another castle, would they?” Bastila’s hair was coming out of its buns, and she tugged and pulled it out of the way, grumbling. Mission still didn’t understand how humans dealt with that stuff, and according to Kal, _no one_ knew how Bastila got hers that way. It looked weird down. It made the Jedi look like a teenage girl or something.

The twilek listened to the mumbling about her _thumbs_ hurting, that she found the romantic subplots between the main characters and non-playable ones both unconvincing and uncomfortable, and what was up with the Sith enemy that kept showing up to make vague threats and non sequitur _flirts_ with her Jedi character and how come telling them off resulted in dark side points, and if that princess was in _another_ castle she might have to call it a night. Mission rolled over the best she could in her hard seat and decided to not break the bad news. She also made sure not to give away the big mystery twist at the end: the Jedi Princess was the Sith Lord boss all along. Bastila’s reaction would be too great to ruin.

Eventually, she fell asleep despite Bastila’s prodding and comments. She dreamed of little holo Sith waving a red lightsaber around, and Bastila’s Jedi character chasing it around the last level, trying and failing to catch it. Kal was there, pointing and laughing at them both.

She came awake with a snorting gasp, pins and needles stabbing her feet and legs from where they were hanging off the seat. Mission stared blurrily at the holo sprite of the Jedi in light armor standing there, tapping her foot and waiting for the player to return, and tried to figure out where Bastila was. The Sith ship? Damn. Not too shabby for her first time playing. Too bad there were still three more levels.

Mission covered Bastila with a blanket. Drooling and tired, hair a disaster of epic proportion and still clinging to the controller. Her hands, already calloused from real fights, had those little indents in the thumbs that made Mission so proud. Almost, the twilek could see why Kal liked Bastila: when she was asleep and quiet.

 _Okaaay_ , when she was awake, it wasn’t too bad to be around her. When she wasn’t trying so hard to be so responsible all the time, and so uptight and prissy. But still, she had hung around and gone out of her way to be alright today. Even if it was to distract Mission from leaving this ship and getting into a fight with a Sith Lord and take off the planet or _whatever_ they thought she would do.

For her sake, Mission wouldn’t leave the _Ebon Hawk_ and make her worry. The Jedi cared, she cared too much was the thing. About following rules and making sure things were right, when even Mission could tell things _weren’t,_ and even if you did everything right and were a perfect Jedi, you could still get into a mess, like in Jolee’s stories or when she and Kal were fleecing some Czerka morons on Kashyyyk and the card hidden up his sleeve had fallen out and both had needed to run out to the ship before they got shot. ‘Oh, man, we have to be more careful, Kal! ‘I know, I know, please don’t tell Bastila.’ Everything could be a kriffing disaster, and you just had to deal with it when it came and not worry ‘bout it so much.

Still, Mission did like her a little better now.

She even felt the slightest bit guilty for what she was going to draw on the Jedi’s face.

* * *

Bastila awoke with a sense of guilt and wrongness, and after sitting up and recalling certain facts, chalked it up to being stuck on this planet. Her thumbs hurt and she felt vaguely sick and vaguely hungry. Why and how was she asleep in the common room? Why was she covered with a blanket? Why had she eaten so much _candy_? Even as a child, she had been better behaved. Her hair was falling about her face and she worked on untangling it with her fingers. She could nearly hear her master’s lectures, and her mother’s as well.

Her companion, bonded partner and maybe friend came scampering up to her. Had he been waiting there? Kal wore a large smile and, frighteningly, black robes. They clung to his thin form and Bastila glanced away and then back, to make sure his lightsaber stayed at his side. She hoped it was not red. “Did you find the Star Maps?”

“We did. And stopped a Sith Academy...and maybe now I own it? I dunno. But I did save a ghost! And a _droid_. It was a cool droid. But none of that matters. What happened _here_?” His grin was scandalized and playful as ever. She wondered why he was freshly bathed, and decided maybe it was better to now know.

“We played a game.”

“Did you?” Kal beamed. “Pin the Tail on the Mandalorian? Grumpy Grumpy Old Jedi? Target practice with HK?”

“No, of course not.” She wasn’t sure if she wanted to chide or comfort. “It was a simple little game. We discussed important matters of galactic rescue attempts. Also, we sang along to music..”

“You _what_? I miss _everything_ good,” he cried, burying his face in his freshly washed hands. “Was it Mission’s playlist? Awww, why did I have to leave the ship?”

“Well, I’m sure you made due.”

“Guess so.” He peeked at her through his dark eyelashes and scrubbed fingers. “Missed you there though.”

She wouldn’t blush or do squirm or do any of the behaviors she had witnessed as a teenager from the adolescents at the Academy while she rolled her eyes.

Then this _new_ Jedi continued, “I think you would have liked it.”

Bastila scowled. “Why do you think _that_?”

“Oh, you know. All those Sith to lecture.”

“Yes, well I’m sure I would have restrained myself and avoided lectures of the dark side to their faces.”

He glanced down at his nails, almost _pointedly_. “Speaking of which, how was Mission?”

“She was quite alright. She can be very mature for her age. I think Mission and I will get along better now.” She would not allow undue attachment to the young twilek woman distract her, but Bastila did hope they could be friendly to each other. They were responsible for her, and that was important. “I made a deal that when I—if I beat that game—she would finish her report.”

“Oh, about Taris’ history? she finished that thing days ago.”

“What?”

“Yeah, she’s quite the writer. Maybe this means she does like you. She wanted to spend time with you. Even if she did write.” Kal cocked his head and leaned in very, very close to apparently read something on her forehead. “‘#1 _prissy Jedi princess of the galaxy._ ’ Hey, she put number one.“

Bastila would handle this maturely, and only delete the most recent of Mission’s saved files. After all, she had _only_ been playing to distract the teenage girl and make sure she didn’t get into any mischief. “When you put it like that…”

Kal blinked his eyelashes and leaned in even closer. “It wouldn’t matter to me if you were number five; you’re my _favorite_ prissy Jedi princess.”

He was a harder man to understand than the game. She fumed and rubbed her forehead to hide the heat in her cheeks and neck and even her ears, _Force_ , and tried to be mature, responsible. A Jedi. “And don’t think I don’t notice you in those absurd robes.”

“You don’t think I look handsome in them? Or. Maybe you want me to take them off?”

“Of course not! I mean. Not in front of me.”

Kal looked very serene. “I never said anything about you undressing me.”

“Not now.” Bastila pushed away the blanket, making a note to herself to thank Mission for being so thoughtful, and to double-check the spelling on it when it was finally turned in. She froze as implications set in and decided to not cover her face with the blanket. It was the candy. It was all the sugar. It was nothing to do with his robes and now picturing Revan, when he had been Revan, suddenly appearing to laugh maniacally and announce that the princess was locked away from the Republic’s clutches and would the Jedi Knight join the dark side, and rule the Empire, _together_? “Or _ever_.”

“I guess I’ll just have to stop Malak and save the galaxy before you acknowledge my many charms.”

Awful. She was stuck with children and odd men with pasts that could never be explained and wished she could be more irate about that fact. She wished she wasn’t blushing and had gotten a little further into the game because she really did want to know how the Jedi were going to save the Jedi Princess that surely would bear no resemblance to Bastila _whatsoever_ from that Sith Lord.

Bastila was going to sneak onboard that ship, dismantle any defenses it had, destroy all the droids, beat that Sith Lord and save the Republic and the Jedi Order armed with only the Force and her lightsaber. Then she would do it for real. Then she and Mission would play this game again on multiple player mode, together, and see who was better after all. And she would do all of that without gaining a single dark side point.

“Hey, do either you or Mission know why I’m missing so many credits on my Holonet account?”

“...”

“Bastila? _Bastila_?”

...But first, before all of that, she needed to scrub her forehead. Then Bastila could decide to ignore her earlier chat with Mission. Her doubts were meaningless and not to be shared with anyone. Such things didn’t matter, in the long run. The Jedi would be in the refresher, telling her reflection that, and cursing permanent ink, when reason returned properly, and she needed to run out and find Kal again. “...did you say you _owned_ a _Sith Academy?!”_


End file.
